


Lessons of Love

by MissDavis



Series: Hazards of Love [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom John, Condoms, Coronavirus epidemic, Established Relationship, Flagrant Violations of the Rules of Social Distancing, I apologize for the fact that Sherlock does not take this seriously, M/M, POV Sherlock Holmes, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Quarantine, Top Sherlock, social distancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:15:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23321539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissDavis/pseuds/MissDavis
Summary: "Oh, God, yes," John said. "You have no idea how much I need an orgasm right now."
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Series: Hazards of Love [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1677148
Comments: 32
Kudos: 198
Collections: Isolated Johnlock Collection





	Lessons of Love

John hadn't kissed him in over two days. Fifty-seven and a half hours, to be exact, and that last kiss had been just a quick peck on the cheek before John left for work. When he'd come back home that evening, he'd started in with his social distancing lectures and refused to kiss, touch or sleep in the same bed with Sherlock. They were still sharing a flat, however, and it had only the one loo, which meant there was no practical way for them to avoid contact with each other completely. Not to mention that it was entirely possible that one or both of them had been exposed to the virus days or even weeks ago, which meant they'd likely already exchanged germs and there was no point to staying away from each other now. 

In short, John was being ridiculous, which meant that Sherlock now had de facto permission to be ridiculous in return. 

He rummaged through his chemistry supplies in the kitchen until he found what he was looking for, then went into the bedroom to get the rest of what he needed. 

John was in the living room, reading something on his tablet, which he'd been cleaning with disinfecting wipes several times a day, even though Sherlock hadn't touched it. He looked up when Sherlock stepped into the room, and Sherlock reached into the right-hand pocket of his dressing gown and pulled out the dust mask he'd got from the kitchen. It didn't meet hospital standards, or John probably would've already stolen it for the clinic, but it would do for their purposes now. He stretched the elastic over his head and settled the mask in place on his face, adjusting his hair over the band in the back.

"What are you doing?" John asked.

"Wearing a mask." His voice was a bit muffled through the mask, but he knew that John could hear him.

"I see that. Why?"

"Because I know how paranoid about social distancing you are right now. 'Wash your hands. Cough into your elbow. Don't kiss me'."

"Well, yeah. But I don't think you need to wear a mask around the flat. Neither of us is actually ill, I'm pretty sure."

Sherlock raised his eyebrows. "Not physically, at least."

John frowned at him, and Sherlock grinned as he pulled out a pair of the clear vinyl disposable gloves he never bothered to wear when he was doing experiments. He didn't put them on yet, just dangled them so John would see.

"You're going to walk around the flat all day wearing gloves and a mask?"

"Nope." 

"So...?"

He was tempted to wait for John to figure out his intentions on his own, but that could take all day. And it had been 57 hours and 33 minutes since they'd last kissed, and even longer since they'd done anything else together. "I'm tired of not being able to touch you, so I decided to take precautions."

"Precautions?"

"Yes. Now put the tablet down, stand up, and take off your trousers."

John stared at him, and Sherlock watched his thought process play out on his face. Yes, John was known to step up in times of crisis and draw upon his background as an army captain to get other people to listen to him, but the somewhat lesser-known legacy of his time in the military was that he sometimes just wanted to be told what to do. And Sherlock was more than happy to oblige. "I said, stand up and take off your trousers."

John's tongue darted out from between his lips. "Why?"

"Why do you think?" Sherlock reached into his left-hand pocket and withdrew the small foil packet he'd scrounged from the back of the drawer of John's nightstand.

"A condom?" John's hand moved to his flies. "We don't—"

"No exchange of bodily fluids," Sherlock said. He didn't think the virus was carried in semen, but that wasn't the point right now, was it? "Don't worry, it won't hurt. I have lube."

John inhaled, then flicked open the button and hook at his waistband as he stood up from his chair, letting his trousers fall to the floor. 

"Very good," said Sherlock. "Now your pants, then your socks. I'm not fucking you while you're wearing socks."

John did as he was told, hopping briefly on one foot while he took off each sock. "Do you want me to wear a mask?"

"No need. You'll be on your hands and knees, not breathing in my direction."

"Okay." John sounded breathless already. He turned around so he was facing the fireplace between their chairs, then fell to his hands and knees on the rug. 

Sherlock hadn't let himself hope for this level of unquestioning compliance. Apparently two days of not touching had had an effect on John, as well. Sherlock took a long breath to steady himself—it wouldn't do to ruin the illusion of his control by moving too quickly. He dropped the condom back into his pocket and undid the belt of his dressing gown; he was wearing nothing but a pair of silk boxers beneath it, and they were already starting to feel a bit tight. He put the gloves on slowly and carefully, making sure to snap the wrists so John could hear what he was doing.

John wriggled backwards a few inches as Sherlock stepped toward him. Eager, then. Obviously. He slipped his hand into his pocket again and found the small bottle of lubricant. The clack of the cap opening brought another needy squirm of John's arse in front of him. Excellent.

He dropped to his knees behind John, and let his hand drift over the front of his own boxers, two languid strokes through the fabric, before reaching out to push the tail of John's shirt up and out of the way. 

"Sherlock," John breathed, when Sherlock settled his hand at the base of John's spine, gloved fingers brushing slowly over his skin. 

"Patience," Sherlock told him. He slid his thumb back and forth a few times across the cleft of John's arse. The gloves weren't ideal—they caught and stuck against John's skin as he moved his fingers, but that wouldn't be a problem for long. He squeezed a generous amount of the lubricant into his hand, letting some of it drip off to land on John.

John shivered at the chill of the liquid, then pushed back against Sherlock's forefinger as he spread the lube down between John's cheeks. "Please," John gasped.

"Oh, so you do enjoy it when I touch you. I see."

"Come on, Sherlock, don't—" John started to pull away, but Sherlock put both hands on his hips to prevent him from moving, then leaned forward and pressed his face against the small of John's back. 

"Are you trying to kiss me through that face mask?" John craned his neck to look back at him.

"Don't complain," Sherlock said, and straightened up again. The inside of the mask was starting to feel damp against his chin and nose, more from his breathing than from the attempted kiss. He wasn't going to take it off, though, not until they were done. 

"I'll complain if I want to," John said, and pumped his hips twice, arse waggling inches from Sherlock's face. ""Put your fingers back, now. Please. I need—"

"Is this what you need?" Sherlock ran the tip of one finger through a stray dollop of lube and then circled once around John's arse hole before pressing in, slowly but without hesitation.

"Yesssss." John's back arched and his head lifted as he howled his appreciation. "Keep going."

Sherlock obliged, spreading more lube over his gloved fingers before he ventured deeper, savoring each moan and shudder he elicited. His own cock was straining up through the opening of his boxers toward John, and Sherlock knew he'd give in to his own temptation soon. "I'd be fucking you already except we're not supposed to be touching, are we?"

John whined and shook his head. "The condom," he gasped.

Sherlock pulled his fingers out and stood up so he could get the packet out of his pocket again. He ripped it open and let the wrapper fall to the floor. "I'd ask you to put it on with your mouth for me, but we wouldn't want to risk your saliva touching me, would we?"

John straightened up so he was sitting back on his haunches and twisted to meet Sherlock's eyes. "Are you trying to have sex with me, or are you trying to teach me a lesson?"

Both, Sherlock thought, though he knew better than to say that aloud.

"Because I would really appreciate the sex right now," John continued. "It's been a very rough few days and I know it's only going to get worse and I thought this little bit of fun would be a good release. But if you don't want to—"

"I want to." Sherlock let the hand that held the condom drop to his side. "I do."

"I know you aren't taking this isolation thing seriously, but I have to."

"I know you do, but come on, John. Three nights ago you came in my mouth and I came on the sheets and then we both slept in it. We don't need to isolate from each other. It's pointless."

"Sherlock." John's voice sounded as if it might crack. "Yes, it is likely that if I've been infected, you already have been, too, but we don't know that for sure. I still have to try to keep you safe. I have to. I have to know I did everything possible. Understand? I can't—I can't go through any of that again. I can't lose you." He didn't move from where he knelt on the rug, naked from the waist down, staring up at Sherlock.

Sherlock frowned at him. He didn't—oh. John wasn't trying to keep them apart for scientific reasons, but purely out of an abundance of sentiment. That was...irrational, but also acceptable, he supposed. He blinked several times and then cleared his throat. "John, I.... I'm sorry. If you would still like to continue, I will follow the rules. For you."

"Oh, God, yes. You have no idea how much I need an orgasm right now." He grinned and then turned his back to Sherlock, dropping to his hands and knees once more. 

Sherlock let his eyes roam over John's body for a few seconds, until his cock was once more hard enough to put the condom on. He knelt again, spreading his legs so his knees were on either side of John's legs. "Get up here." He put his hands on the sides of John's ribs and guided him upright, until they were pressed front to back from shoulder to groin. He planted another mask-hindered kiss on John's shoulder, but when he reached around to take hold of John's cock, John batted his hand away. "What—"

"I don't like the gloves."

"Sorry, but they're necessary in this time of pandemic." 

"You're a complete and utter bastard," John said, but Sherlock could hear his smile. "I'll take care of myself. Just fuck me already." 

"I will, I will." He shifted until the two of them were lined up properly, then used both hands to guide his sheathed cock into position. 

John flinched as Sherlock entered him, but they'd done this often enough that he knew he didn't need to stop. John relaxed almost immediately, and Sherlock continued to press his way in until his hips met John's arse, then paused, letting his senses take over. All of his thoughts about viruses and illness and social distancing and quarantines and everything that had happened over the last few weeks shrank away as he focused on the sensation of being inside John. Even with the barrier of the condom between them, the feeling was still so intense it was nearly overwhelming.

He began to move again, holding John in place with hands on his hips as he thrust in and out of him, each movement matched by the stroke of John's hands on his own cock. The small noises they each made, the clench of John's muscles around him, the heat and sweat produced between them at the places where their skin did touch, even the novelty of using the condom after so many years all worked together to bring Sherlock swiftly to the limit of what he could withstand. "John."

"Yeah. Keep going. It's perfect, just like that." He pushed himself back more firmly against Sherlock's body, and Sherlock felt himself begin to lose the rhythm that they held.

"I can't. I can't—"

"It's okay. Do it now. Don't try to stop yourself. Sherlock."

"John." Sherlock stilled everything but his hips, pressing his face into John's hair. He gave a few more sharp, violent thrusts, then let out a long, much-welcome groan as he came, shuddering and shaking and holding onto John tightly enough that there were sure to be bruises later on. "Sorry, sorry, I—"

"No. Don't." John grabbed Sherlock's right hand, glove and all, and squeezed his fingers so tightly Sherlock couldn't have broken the grip if he'd tried. "I'mmm—" John leaned forward slightly, left hand moving furiously, until he suddenly stilled, too, and Sherlock watched over his shoulder as John's climax spattered across their antique rug.

"Oh, God." John released his hand and fell forward onto his elbows, dislodging Sherlock from inside him. He rolled to one side so he lay on his back, laughing. "That was—wow. I think my knees have rug-burn. Are your fingers okay?"

"They're fine." Sherlock shook out the hand that John had been squeezing, then reached down to try to take off the condom without spilling it. Though after what John had just done to the rug, he didn't know why he should bother to be careful. He pulled the gloves off, as well, tucking the used condom into one of them so he could throw the whole mess into the bin.

"Keep the mask on," John said, as Sherlock stood up and headed towards the kitchen.

"Why?" He looked back to see that John hadn't moved from his position on the floor.

"Because I'm exhausted and need to have a kip, but I'm pretty sure that was the last condom we had in this flat, which means one of us is going to have to go out and buy more."

**Author's Note:**

> My plan is to write one more of these Isolated Johnlock fics (also explicit) and then go back to working on [Hold You like a Weapon](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23252971/chapters/55681264). [Subscribe to me](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissDavis) if you're interested in reading it!


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